Autumn in Croatia? Let’s Go . . .

I’ve been considering posting twice weekly again, and reader Zagorka gave me the perfect opportunity when she left a message for fellow Croatian reader, Dottoressa in the comments section ofthis post. The message mainly comprises a poem by Dobriša Cesarić, about whom I knew nothing before Zagorka introduced me to his work. So I did a little research, after first trying to find a translation of the poem.

The poem is seasonal, a complement to two I’ve posted earlier (Edna St. Vincent Millay’s sonnet and Louise Glück’s “Harvest”).

Here it is, first, as Zagorka posted it in the comments:

Jesen
Ona je tu. U tuzi kiše
Po poljanama tiho hoda,
I kuda stiže u vis diže
Usplahirena jata roda.

Polako penje se u brda,
A kuda prođe, njezin put
Od otpalog je lišća žut.
I u dol njime idu krda.

U jezero unese nemir,
I ne vidiš mu više dna,
A medvjed, koga putem sretne,
Odjednom zaželi se sna.

A kada livadama dune
Njen vjetar, uzbune se travke.
U strništima tužno šušti:
To polja slute snijeg i čavke.

Na cesti uveli se list
U čudu digo: gle, ja skačem!
A čovjek koji hoda drumom
Zagrnuo se ogrtačem.

Dobriša Cesarić

Even though most of us don’t understand Croatian (or its linguistic cousins), you’ve probably guessed from my hints that this poem is about Autumn. In fact, that is apparently how its title translates into English.

And here it is, as crudely, formulaically, translated by Google. I’m grateful for the software that allows me to get a sense of a poem that hasn’t yet been translated (and published) by someone well versed in both languages; still, I hope that Zagorka and Dottoressa might help us arrive at a better version. I suspect that the gendered pronouns are misleading here (perhaps it’s Autumn itself that’s the “She”?); I suspect that the leaf, in the last stanza, might have been lying on the road, dry, lifeless, until blown into its leap by the wind. I wonder if it’s the bear, rather than the man walking, who suddenly longs for sleep in the third stanza. . .

Nonetheless, how magical for us to meet here and share a favourite Croatian poem in our English-reading community (spread over many countries, many cultural and linguistic traditions, across the world) — and be able to find a translation at all.

Autumn

She’s here. In the grief of the rain
He walks quietly through the fields,
And where it reaches the height it rises
An alarmed flock of storks.

He climbs the hills slowly,
And where it goes, her path
The fallen leaves are yellow.
And herds go down it.

It brings unrest to the lake,
And you don’t see the bottom of it anymore,
And the bear, whom he meets on the way,
Suddenly he longed for sleep.

And when the meadows blow
Her wind, the grass is alarmed.
In the stubble he whispers sadly:
These fields sense snow and jackdaws.

A leaf was on the road
He wondered: behold, I am leaping!
And a man walking down the road
He wrapped himself in a cloak.

As I said, I knew nothing about Dobrišic Cesarić until Zagorka shared this poem, but there is ample information about him available online. Born in Požega (eastern Croatia) in 1902, Cesarić first had a poem published when he was only 14. He went on to become one of the greatest of Croatia’s 20th-century poets, and is considered “the founder of modern Croatian poetry.”  Cesarić also worked as a translator (from Hungarian, German, Russian, Bulgarian, and Italian) and was initiated into the Yugoslav Academy of Science and Arts in 1951. He died in 1980, leaving behind a powerful legacy of words.

Another Croatian poet, Marin Franičević, wrote of Cesarić’s treatment of the theme of Autumn in an article published in 1981 (I’ve highlighted in red the references to Cešarić’s poems about Autumn as well as reference to the images that appear in the poem Zagorka shared with us):

Cesarić’s The Lyrics [his first collection, published in 1931] opens with a bright and clear „Autumn Morning“. Its free verse form (in which there are pentameters and hexameters) is not of most importance. What fascinates is an amazing simplicity and striking pellucidness. Of what? The image of autumn? Yes, of autumn, with its wet coats and the scent of rain. But also of the words, fresh „as oranges on a branch after rain“ and of something else which is unique. Namely, nothing, except lyricism is to be found in this unobtrusive lyrical image. However, this is not a new Cesarić, it is authentic Cesarić. The same suggestiveness and the same naturalness are to be found in Cesarić’s „Autumn Afternoon“ with its usual and unusual, but always sonorous, rhymes which are organicly fused with the poetic tissue of his poetry. The sound is central here – the whine of autumn knocking on the window pane, the sound of sawing. The snarling of a saw (the autumn of „cheerful vineyards is far away“) and drops of rain on a window-pane could give a completely different image of life. For, autumn appears again and again in Cesarić’s poetry („Late Autumn“, „A Day before Autumn“, „Autumn“, „A Cricket“), autumn calling forth winter, city street autumn with idle ice-cream vendors and the first yellow leaves, country autumn with flocks of storks and smoke, jackdaws, crickets and a man walking down the road with his coat over his shoulders, the Slavonian autumn and the Zagreb autumn which is never just simply autumn, because it emanates another, lyrically as intensive, life. The presence of the countryside on the city street is presented in the best, simplest, and most subtle way in the poem Hay. Fresh hay. and heavy, lumbering horses, – an image, emanating unsaid and unsayable longing, which is emphasized by the scent of the countryside among the well-lit houses, the scent of the freshly reaped meadow and especially by the peasant sitting on the cart „his legs and the pipe bumping around“ …

 

I know that some (many?) of you are not here to read poetry, and I promise I have other topics coming to the blog soon. That said, many of us are going to be staying inside more now, thanks to the combination of Fall/Winter weather and Covid-19’s “second wave.” And poetry can be a good friend in such circumstances.  . .

Tell me, what do you think of Cešarić’s poem? and what of the opportunity to learn about the beloved poet of another country, culture, and language? I wonder how many other languages we number among us here in this community. . . care to share?

If you’d like to travel further into Croatia, you might want to go back to Dottoressa’s series of guest posts on Culinary Croatia: Part V, Part IV (with a dish perfectly suited to cool autumn and winter nights), Part III(with some Christmas specialties), Part II, and Part I. Before this series, Dottoressa contributed a post on Croatia’s coffee culture

Not too long after Dottoressa and I finished the last post in this series (which includes a brief discussion of work by another Croatian writer), she and I (and my lucky husband) enjoyed coffee together in Zagrebseveral times; Paul and I have also been treated to a sumptuous Croatian meal around my gracious friend’s table. And we’ve both become committed afficionados of Croatian food!

For the moment, visiting the country (any country!) through its poetry, through books and films and music, through cookbooks, favourite recipes, wines — and, perhaps, through memory — is the only way we can visit. I’m currently trawling through my box of travel journals, delighted to be ambushed by sights and sounds and scents and sensations I’d tucked away with my passport when that particular trip was done. Hoping we might chat, over the next few posts, about how we’re extending our horizons these days.

But that’s for later — I’ve just looked at the clock and am shocked to see that it’s 12:18, already my lunchtime. And you might be shocked to know that I’m still in my pjs (although I did deal with the bedhead hair hours ago ;-), having been at the keyboard writing this for a few hours now. So I’m waving good-bye and looking forward to your comments.

xo,

f